


The Silver Cauldron

by WhiteRookBlackBishop



Series: Silver [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Amortentia, M/M, Potterverse, brief mention of canon Harry Potter character, i am not a professional songwriter, i'm tempted to reference this scene in the actual story, my two idiots, not in the way you think, wizard radio, wizarding songs are weird okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteRookBlackBishop/pseuds/WhiteRookBlackBishop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock learns a little something about potions. John should learn to turn the radio down while he's brewing them.</p>
<p>A companion fic to Of Silver Bees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silver Cauldron

**Author's Note:**

> I should point out that this is _not_ an update to Of Silver Bees. This is more of a practice to get myself reacquainted with my Potterverse. Of Silver Bees still has a long ways to go. In the meantime, however, I might post some of my practice chapters for you guys while I work on the actual story. Happy Halloween!

The flat smelled strongly of strawberries and dirt.

Honestly, after having smelled like dungbombs, rotting body parts, and burning rubber in the past (among other things), this was an improvement. But it was still an odd smell, so Sherlock had to come up to investigate. Mrs. Hudson was at the top of the stairs in a somewhat perplexed state, staring at the door. There was a glaze to her eyes that told Sherlock that whatever she was thinking was being tampered with by magic. John must be doing something, then. He touched her shoulder gently. Mrs. Hudson startled and turned to face him, hand over her heart.

“Oh, Sherlock, I thought you’d just left,” she said, giving him a soft smile.

“I think your kettle is going off,” Sherlock told her. She frowned and glanced down the stairs, as if trying to remember if she’d put it on. “Why don’t you go downstairs and make yourself some tea?”

Eventually, Mrs. Hudson complied, though she remained slightly confused. As she turned to descend the last flight of stairs, Sherlock could hear her murmuring about the smell of flour and orchids. He quickly slipped into the flat and closed the door behind him. The door lock clicked automatically.

Sherlock noticed two things immediately. The first was that music was definitely not playing outside the flat. Yet there John was, crooning horribly with the antique-looking radio on their kitchen table. The second thing he noticed was the pewter cauldron on their stove bubbling with some sort of pink liquid.

“ _I’ve got a lot of love, baby,_

_I poured it all in a bottle for you._

_A brew of Amortentia, maybe_

_Only the finest will dooo—“_

Sherlock couldn’t help but stare as John sang with the song that didn’t make sense. Whatever was in the cauldron started bubbling. A particularly large bubble popped, expelling a heart-shaped cloud. The smell of dirty strawberries grew stronger. It didn’t take a genius to guess the strange liquid was the source and Sherlock felt his curiosity spike.

John whirled around to sing the next verse, and met Sherlock’s eyes. Startled, he dropped his spoon. The radio continued to sing without him.

“I didn’t hear you—“ John stammered, blushing red. Sherlock smirked.

“That explains why you didn’t hear Mrs. Hudson at the door,” he said. He came closer to take a look at the potion. John pulled him away.

“If any of your hairs fall into that, whoever drinks that will be single-mindedly obsessed with you, no matter who administers it,” he warned. “And I’m not willing to share.”

Sherlock glanced at the potion again. Another bubble popped.

“How does it work?” he wondered.

John picked up the spoon and cast a scouring charm on it and the floor. He set it aside.

“If ingested, the victim will feel the effects of artificial love and obsession with whoever gave it to them,” John said. “It doesn’t create love, mind. It just makes the person feel mad for someone for a few days and wears off.”

Sherlock looked at the potion with more interest than ever. John rolled his eyes and pulled him out of the kitchen.

“No, I’m not letting you take any. This is for a client,” John told him. “Professor Malfoy owled me and said that he was too busy grading essays about Felix Felicis to brew Amortentia for his demonstration in class. Offered to pay me a hundred Galleons if I got a bottle of it to him in a week.”

That made very little sense to Sherlock, but he nodded anyway. He let John sit him down and stared at the cauldron again.

“Why does it smell like dirt and strawberries?” he asked. John chuckled.

“You just really like the smell of those things. It smells different to each individual. I smell cotton, honey, and your laundry detergent,” he explained. Sherlock blushed, but couldn’t help the pleased smile that stretched across his face.

“What if I changed my laundry detergent?” he asked.

“I’d probably start smelling that in the Amortentia,” John admitted. “Or I’ll probably smell something different about you if I don’t particularly like the new brand.”

“Have you ever given any of it to me?” Sherlock suddenly asked. John stiffened and glanced at him.

“Why in Merlin’s name would I do a thing like that?” he asked.

“It was a stupid question, I’m sorry,” Sherlock tried to duck his head. John placed a hand under his chin and lifted, forcing him to make eye contact.

“Sherlock, I would never use a potion on you against your will,” John told him. “First of all, it’s not exactly legal to use potions on Muggles. Second of all, whatever you feel for me now is real. Focus, Sherlock. Can you think of anything important besides me?”

Sherlock thought. Mrs. Hudson was downstairs, probably brewing tea and wondering where the smell of flour and flowers was coming from. Lestrade should be phoning him about a case any day now. The radio was still belting out that weird song ( _“Honey, I wanna see you tonight, I wanna make things right, I’ll bottle my love for you…”_ ). John’s birthday was coming up soon. Moriarty was still at large.

He nodded. John leaned back with satisfaction. “I never needed a potion to make you do anything, Sherlock. Especially not feel anything for me. You did that all on your own.”

Sherlock nodded again, and looked at the cauldron again. Another heart-shaped cloud rose from the lip, and the smell strengthened again. John smiled and headed back into the kitchen to finish the brew. The radio stopped singing.

_“Happy Halloween to all of our listeners out there who celebrate that sort of thing. Our next song has been chosen by a listener, a Muggle tune. You’re listening to the Silver Cauldron, playing the music you like, anytime you like.”_

_“I put a spell on you…”_

**Author's Note:**

> This was kinda inspired by a friend of mine (you know who you are) telling me about beta'ing Halloween fics for other authors. And now for me to return to my work on OSB... I'll catch you guys on the flip side!


End file.
